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The Jolliest Term on Record
BY ANGELA BRAZIL
"Angela Brazil has proved her undoubted talent for writing a story
of schoolgirls for other schoolgirls to read."--Bookman.
A Popular Schoolgirl.
The Princess of the School.
A Harum-Scarum Schoolgirl.
The Head Girl at the Gables.
A Patriotic Schoolgirl.
For the School Colours.
The Madcap of the School.
The Luckiest Girl in the School.
The Jolliest Term on Record.
The Girls of St. Cyprian's.
The Youngest Girl in the Fifth.
The New Girl at St. Chad's.
For the Sake of the School.
The School by the Sea.
The Leader of the Lower School.
A Pair of Schoolgirls.
A Fourth Form Friendship.
The Manor House School.
The Nicest Girl in the School.
The Third Class at Miss Kaye's.
The Fortunes of Philippa.
LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LTD., 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
[Illustration: "LEFT ALONE, THE TWO GIRLS WERE NOT SLOW IN DISCUSSING
THE WONDERFUL NEWS"]
The Jolliest Term
on Record
A Story of School Life
BY
ANGELA BRAZIL
Author of "For the Sake of the School"
"The Girls of St. Cyprian's"
"The School by the Sea"
&c. &c.
_Illustrated by Balliol Salmon_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
Contents
CHAP. Page
I. THE NEW SCHOOL 9
II. A SCRAPE 23
III. SHAKING DOWN 36
IV. THE SCHOOL MASCOT 50
V. LILAC GRANGE 64
VI. AN AWKWARD PREDICAMENT 78
VII. THE MAD HATTERS 93
VIII. AN ADVENTURE 108
IX. THE TENNIS CHAMPIONSHIP 122
X. AN ANTIQUE PURCHASE 136
XI. WATERLOO DAY 148
XII. KATRINE'S AMBITION 162
XIII. GITHA'S SECRET 175
XIV. A MIDNIGHT ALARM 189
XV. AMATEUR ARTISTS 202
XVI. CONCERNS A LETTER 215
XVII. THE WISHING WELL 226
XVIII. A DISCOVERY 236
XIX. AN ACCIDENT 246
XX. BOB GARTLEY EXPLAINS 257
XXI. THE SPORTS 268
XXII. THE OLD OAK CUPBOARD 279
Illustrations
Page
"LEFT ALONE, THE TWO GIRLS WERE NOT SLOW IN
DISCUSSING THE WONDERFUL NEWS" _Frontispiece_ 14
"'THE GOOSE GIRL, BY ALL THAT'S WONDERFUL!'
WHISPERED GWETHYN" 28
"GWETHYN TORE OFF THE SILK HANDKERCHIEFS. SHE
SAW AT ONCE WHAT HAD HAPPENED" 102
"THE UNPLEASANT TRUTH WAS HOPELESSLY PLAIN--THEY
WERE PRISONERS IN THE EMPTY HOUSE" 118
"'I BELIEVE I'VE BROKEN MY LEG', HE MOANED" 248
"'THIS CONCERNS US VERY MUCH, GITHA. IT'S YOUR
GRANDFATHER'S LAST WILL'" 284
THE JOLLIEST TERM ON RECORD
CHAPTER I
The New School
"Katrine!" said Gwethyn, in her most impressive manner, "have you
noticed anything peculiar going on in this house the last two or three
days?"
"Why, no," replied Katrine abstractedly, taking a fresh squeeze of
cobalt blue, and mixing it carefully with the rose madder and the yellow
ochre already on her palette. "Nothing at all unusual. Gwethyn, be
careful! You nearly sat down on my brigand, and his head's still wet!"
"Peccavi! I didn't see he was there," apologized Gwethyn, rescuing the
canvas in question, and placing it in a position of greater safety on
the mantelpiece. "Considering you've got absolutely every single chair
littered with books, paints, and turpentine bottles, there really
doesn't seem a spot left to sit upon," she continued in an injured
tone.
"Except the table," returned Katrine, hastily moving a box of pastels
and a pile of loose drawings to make room. "Please don't disturb my
things. I've been sorting them out, and I don't want to get them mixed
up again. Squat here, if you're tired, and leave the bottles alone."
"I am tired. I'm nearly dead. I bicycled all the way to Lindley Park and
back with Mona Taylor on the step. She _would_ make me take her! And
she's no light weight, the young Jumbo!"
"Poor martyr! would you like a drink of turpentine to revive you? Sorry
the chocs are finished."
"Don't mock me! Mona's a decent kid, but she really was the limit
to-day. I'll see myself at Jericho before I let her climb on my step
again. But Kattie, to go back to what I was saying before you
interrupted me--haven't you noticed there's a something, a most decided
something in the wind?"
"Your imagination, my dear child, is one of your brightest talents.
You're particularly clever at noticing what isn't there."
"And you're as blind as a bat! Can't you see for yourself that Father
and Mother have got some secret they're keeping from us? Why are we
having our summer dresses made in April? Why are all our underclothes
being overhauled and counted? Why did two new trunks arrive yesterday,
with K. H. M. and G. C. M. painted on them in red letters? Why did
Father just begin to say something last night, and Mother shut him up in
a hurry, and he look conscience-stricken, and murmur: 'I'd forgotten
they don't know yet'? Girl alive! if you're blind I'm not. There's
something exciting on foot. I'm wild to find out what. Why doesn't
Mother tell us? It's too bad."
"She's just going to now," said a voice from the door, and a small,
bright-eyed little lady walked in, laughing. "You shan't be kept in the
dark any longer, poor injured creatures! I'll make a clean breast of it
at last."
"Mumsie!" cried both girls, jumping up, and sweeping away the books and
painting materials that encumbered the one arm-chair. "Sit here, you
darling! It isn't turpentiny, really! Here's the cushion. Are you comfy
now? Well, do please begin and tell. We're all in a dither to know."
"Brace your nerves then, chicks! First and foremost, Father has been
asked in a hurry to go out to the Scientific Conference at Sydney, and
give the lectures on Geology in place of Professor Baillie, who has been
taken ill, and can't keep his engagement. He has accepted, and must
start by the 28th. He wants me to go with him. We shall probably be away
for three months."
"And leave us!" Gwethyn's voice was reproachful. "Are we to be two sort
of half orphans for three whole months? Oh, Mumsie!"
"It can't be helped," replied Mrs. Marsden, stroking the brown head
apologetically. "What a Mummie's baby you are still! Remember, it's a
great honour for Father to be asked to take the Geology chair at the
Conference. He's ever so pleased about it. And of course I must go too,
because----"
The girls smiled simultaneously, and with complete understanding.
"If you weren't there to remind him, Mumsie, Daddie'd forget which days
his lectures were on!" twinkled Katrine. "Yes, and I verily believe he'd
put his coat on inside out, or wear two hats, or do something horrible,
if he were thinking very hard of the Pleistocene period. He'd be utterly
lost without you. No, you couldn't let him go alone!"
"It's not to be thought of," agreed Mrs. Marsden hastily.
"Pack Kattie and me inside your trunk," urged Gwethyn's beseeching
voice. "I'd like to see Australia."
"Too expensive a business for four. No, we've made other plans for you.
Get up, Baby! You're too heavy to nurse. Go and sit somewhere else--yes,
on the table, if you like. Well, Father and I have talked the matter
thoroughly over, and we've decided to send you both for a term to a
boarding-school we know of in Redlandshire."
"To school!" shrieked Katrine. "But, Mumsie, I left school last
Christmas! Why, I've almost turned my hair up! I can't go back and be a
kid again--it's quite impossible!"
"No one wants you to do that. I have made special arrangements for you
with Mrs. Franklin. You are to join some of the classes, and spend the
rest of your time studying painting. Mrs. Franklin's sister, Miss
Aubrey, is a very good artist, and will take you out sketching. Isn't
that a cheering prospect? You've wanted so much to have lessons in
landscape."
"Not so bad--but I'm suffering still from shock!" returned Katrine.
"School's school, anyhow you like to put it. And when I thought I'd left
for good!"
"And where do I come in?" wailed a melancholy voice from the table.
"You're Katrine, and I'm only Gwethyn. I'm too mi-ser-able for words,
Mumsie, you've betrayed us shamefully. I didn't think it of you. Or
Daddie either. Do please change your minds!"
"No; for once we're hard-hearted parents," laughed Mrs. Marsden. "I
wrote last night and arranged definitely and finally for you to go to
Aireyholme on the 21st."
"I suppose I can take Tony with me?" asked Gwethyn anxiously, quitting
her seat on the table to catch up a small Pekinese spaniel and press a
kiss on his snub nose. "He'd break his little heart with fretting, bless
him, if I left him behind. Wouldn't you, Tootitums?"
"I'm afraid that's impossible. We must board Tony out while we're away.
I dare say Mrs. Wilson at the market gardens would look after him, or
Mary might take him home with her. Now, Gwethyn, don't make a fuss, for
I can't help it. I'm doing the best I can for everybody. You don't
realize what a business it is to start for Australia at such a short
notice, and have to shut up one's house, and dispose of one's family,
all in three weeks' time. I'm nearly distracted with making so many
arrangements."
"Poor darling little Mumsie!" said Katrine, squatting down by the
arm-chair, and cuddling her mother's hand. "You'll be glad when it's
over and you're safe on board ship. Which way do people sail for
Australia? I don't know any geography."
"We go through the Suez Canal----"
"Oh, Mumsie! Hereward!" interrupted both the girls eagerly.
Mrs. Marsden's eyes were shining.
"I'm not counting on seeing him," she protested. "It's wildly improbable
he'd get leave, and we only have a few hours, I believe, at Port Said.
Still, of course, there's always just the possibility."
"Now I understand why you're so keen to go to Australia," said Gwethyn.
"You darling humbug! You'd have made Daddie accept a lectureship on the
top of Chimborazo, or at the North Pole, if there were a chance of
seeing Hereward for ten seconds on the way. Confess you would!"
"I suppose I'm as weak-minded as most mothers who have an only son in
the army," said Mrs. Marsden, rising from her basket-chair. "One can't
keep one's bairns babies for ever. They grow up only too fast, and fly
from the nest. Well, I've told you the great secret, so I'll leave you
to digest it at your leisure, chicks. Aireyholme is a delightful school.
I'm sure you'll enjoy being there. Perhaps you're going to have the time
of your lives!"
Left alone, the two girls were not slow in discussing the wonderful
news. The room where they were sitting was a large attic, which had been
converted into a studio. The drab walls were covered with sketches in
oils, water-colours, pencil or chalk; a couple of easels, paint-boxes,
palettes, drawing-paper, and canvases, and a litter of small
articles--india-rubbers, mediums, pastels, and stumps--gave a very
artistic general effect, and suggested plenty of work on the part of the
owners. Both the sisters were fond of painting, and Katrine, at any
rate, spent much of her spare time here. With her blue eyes, regular
features, clear pale complexion, and plentiful red-gold hair, Katrine
looked artistic to her finger-tips. She was just seventeen, and, owing
to her extreme predilection for painting, had persuaded her parents to
take her from the High School, and let her attend the School of Art,
where she could devote all her energies to her pet subject. On the
strength of this promotion she regarded herself as almost, if not quite,
grown up--a view that was certainly not shared by her mother, and was
perhaps a determining influence in Mrs. Marsden's decision to send her
to a boarding-school.
Gwethyn, two years younger, was a bright, merry, jolly, independent
damsel, with twinkling hazel eyes and ripply brown hair, a pair of
beguiling dimples at the corners of her mouth, and a nose which, as
Tennyson kindly expresses it, was inclined to be tip-tilted. Unromantic
Gwethyn did not care a toss about "High Art", though in her way she was
rather clever at painting, and inclined to follow Katrine's lead. She
liked drawing animals, or niggers, or copying funny pictures from comic
papers; and sometimes, I fear, she was guilty of caricaturing the
mistresses at school, to the immense edification of the rest of the
form. While Katrine painted fairies, Gwethyn would be drawing grinning
gargoyles or goblins, with a spirited dash about the lines, and much
humour in the expression of the faces. Sometimes these artistic efforts,
produced at inopportune moments in school, got her into trouble, but
wrath from head-quarters had little permanent effect upon Gwethyn. Her
irrepressible spirits bobbed cheerily up again when the scoldings were
over, and her eyes, instead of being filled with penitential tears,
would be twinkling with suppressed fun.
Just now she was sitting on the table in the studio, hugging Tony, and
trying to adjust her mental vision to the new prospect which opened
before her.
"It's hard luck to have to leave the 'High' when I'd really a chance for
the tennis championship," she mourned. "I suppose they'll play tennis at
this new school? I hope to goodness they won't be very prim. I guess
I'll wake them up a little if they are. Katrine, do you hear? I'm going
to have high jinks somehow."
"Jink if you like!" returned Katrine dolefully. "It's all very well for
you--you're only changing schools. But I'd left! And I'd quite made up
my mind to turn up my hair this term. Of course I'll like the
landscape-painting. I can do lots of things for the sketching club while
I'm away, but--it's certainly a venture! Perhaps an adventure!"
"It'll be a surprise packet, at any rate," laughed Gwethyn. "We don't
know the place, or the people we're going to meet, or anything at all
about it. Kattie, I felt serious a minute ago, but the sight of your
lugubrious face makes me cackle. I want to sketch you for a gargoyle--a
melancholy one this time. That's better! Now you're laughing! Look here,
we'll have some fun out of this business, somehow. I'm going to enjoy
myself, and if you don't play up and follow suit, you're no sister of
mine."
* * * * *
A fortnight later, the two girls were waving good-bye from the window of
a train that steamed slowly out of Hartfield station. Even Gwethyn
looked a trifle serious as a railway arch hid the last glimpse of Mumsie
standing on the platform, and Katrine conveniently got something in her
eye, which required the vigorous application of her pocket-handkerchief.
They cheered up, however, when the city was passed, and suburban villas
began to give place to fields and hawthorn hedges. After all, novelty
was delightful, and for town-bred girls three months of country life,
even at school, held out attractions. It was a four hours' journey to
Carford, where they changed. The express was late, and, somewhat to
their dismay, they found they had missed the local train, and would have
to wait three hours for the next. As it was only eight miles to
Heathwell, the village where the school was situated, they decided to
ride there on their bicycles, leaving their luggage to follow by rail.
The prospect of a cycling jaunt seemed far pleasanter than waiting at an
uninteresting junction; it would be fun to explore the country, and they
would probably arrive at school earlier by carrying out this plan.
Through the sweet, fresh-scented lanes, therefore, they started, where
the young leaves were lovely with the tender green of late April, and
the banks gay with celandine stars and white stitchwort, and the
thrushes and blackbirds were chanting rival choruses in the hedgerow,
and the larks were rising up from the fields with their little brown
throats bubbling over with the message of spring. On and on, mile after
mile of softly undulating country, where red-roofed farms lay among
orchards full of blossom, and a river wandered between banks of osiers
and pollard willows, and the sleek white-faced cattle grazed in meadows
flowery as gardens. It seemed a fitting way to Eden; but the girls had
not quite anticipated the little Paradise that burst upon their view
when a bend of the road brought them suddenly into the heart of
Heathwell. Surely they must have left the present century, and by some
strange jugglery of fate have turned back the clock, and found
themselves transported to mediaeval times. The broad village street ran
from the old market hall at one end to the ancient church at the other,
flanked on either side by black-and-white houses so quaint in design,
and so picturesque in effect, that they might have stepped from a
painting of the seventeenth century. The cobble-stoned cause-way, the
irregular flights of steps, the creepers climbing to the very chimneys,
the latticed windows, the swinging inn-sign with its heraldic dragon,
all combined to make up a scene which was typically representative of
Merrie England.
"Are we awake, or are we in an Elizabethan dream?" asked Katrine,
dismounting from her bicycle to stand and survey the prospect.
"I don't know. I feel as if I were on the stage of a Shakespearian play.
A crowd of peasants with May garlands ought to come running out of that
archway and perform a morris dance, then the principal characters should
walk on by the side wings."
"It's too fascinating for words. I wonder where Aireyholme is?"
"We shall have to ask our way. Ought one to say: 'Prithee, good knave,
canst inform me?' or 'Hold, gentle swain, I have need of thy counsel'?"
"We shall start with a reputation for lunacy, if you do!"
The school proved to be not very far away from the village. Aireyholme,
as it was aptly called, was a large, comfortable, rather old-fashioned
house that stood on a small hill overlooking the river. Orchards, in the
glory of their spring bloom, made a pink background for the white
chimneys and the grey-slated roof; a smooth tennis lawn with four courts
faced the front, and in a field adjoining the river were some hockey
goals.
"Not so utterly benighted!" commented Gwethyn, as she and Katrine
wheeled their bicycles up the drive. "There's more room for games here
than we had at the 'High'. I'm glad I bought that new racket. Wonder
what their play's like? I say, these are ripping courts!"
To judge by the soft thud of balls behind the bushes, and the cries that
registered the scoring, several sets of tennis were in progress, and as
the girls turned the corner of the shrubbery, and came out on to the
carriage sweep before the front door, they had an excellent view of the
lawn. Their sudden appearance, however, stopped the games. The players
had evidently been expecting them, and, running up, greeted them in
characteristic schoolgirl fashion.
"Hello! Are you Katrine and Gwethyn Marsden?"
"So you've turned up at last!"
"Did you miss your train?"
"Miss Spencer was in an awful state of mind when you weren't at the
station. She went to meet you."
"Have you biked all the way from Carford?"
"Yes, and we're tired, and as hungry as hunters," returned Katrine. "Our
luggage is coming by the 5.30. We missed the 2.15, so we thought we'd
rather ride on than wait. Where can we put our bikes?"
"I'll show you," said a tall girl, who seemed to assume the lead. "At
least, Jess and Novie can put them away for you now, and I'll take you
straight to Mrs. Franklin. She'll be most fearfully relieved to see you;
she gets herself into such stews over anybody who doesn't arrive on the
nail. I'm Viola Webster. I'll introduce the others afterwards. You'll
soon get to know us all, I expect. There are thirty-six here this term,
counting yourselves. Did you bring rackets? Oh, good! We're awfully keen
on tennis. So are you? Dorrie Vernon will be glad to hear that. She's
our games secretary. I wonder if Mrs. Franklin is in the study, or in
the drawing-room? Perhaps you'd better wait here while I find her. Oh,
there she is after all, coming down the stairs!"
* * * * *
The new world into which Katrine and Gwethyn were speedily introduced,
was a very different affair from the High School which they had
previously attended. The smaller number of pupils, and the fact that it
was a boarding-school, made the girls on far more intimate terms with
one another than is possible in a large day-school. Mrs. Franklin, the
Principal, was a woman of strong character. She had been a lecturer at
college before her marriage, and after her husband's death had begun her
work at Aireyholme in order to find some outlet for her energies. Her
two sons were both at the front, one in the Territorials, and the other
as a naval chaplain. Her only daughter, Ermengarde, had lately been
married to a clergyman. Tall, massive, perhaps even a trifle masculine
in appearance, Mrs. Franklin hid a really kind heart under a rather
uncompromising and masterful manner. She was a clever manager, an
admirable housekeeper, and ruled her little kingdom well and wisely.
Both in features and personality she resembled an ancient Roman matron,
and among the girls she was often known as "the mother of the Gracchi".
Mrs. Franklin's sister, Miss Aubrey, who lived at the school, was an
artist of considerable talent. She superintended the art teaching, and
gave the rest of her time to landscape-painting, in both oil and water
colours. It was largely the fact that Katrine might have sketching
lessons from Miss Aubrey which had influenced Mr. and Mrs. Marsden in
their choice of Aireyholme. The art department was a very important
feature of that school. Any talent shown among the pupils was carefully
fostered. The general atmosphere of the place was artistic; the girls
were familiar with reproductions of pictures from famous galleries, they
took in _The Art Magazine_ and _The Studio_, they revelled in
illustrated catalogues of the Salon or the Royal Academy, and dabbled in
many mediums--oil, water colour, pastel, crayon, and tempera. The big
studio was perhaps the pet room of the house; it was Liberty Hall, where
anybody might pursue her favourite project, and though some of the
attempts were certainly rather crude, they were all helpful in training
eye and hand to work together.
Of the other mistresses, Miss Spencer was bookish, and Miss Andrews
athletic. The former was rather cold and dignified, an excellent and
painstaking, though not very inspiring teacher. She spoke slowly and
precisely, and there was a smack of college about her, a scholastic
officialism of manner that raised a barrier of reserve between herself
and her pupils, difficult to cross. Very different was Miss Andrews,
whose hearty, breezy ways were more those of a monitress than of a
mistress. She laughed and joked with the girls almost like one of
themselves, though she could assert her authority emphatically when she
wished. Needless to say she was highly popular, and although she had
only been a year at Aireyholme, she was already regarded as an
indispensable feature of the establishment. Into this busy and highly
organized little community Katrine and Gwethyn, as new-comers, must
shake themselves down.